<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Roulette by MochaTears</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103928">Roulette</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MochaTears/pseuds/MochaTears'>MochaTears</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I for real wasn’t sure what to do with the warnings?, Oh! This was written for the book; Chalky has male pronouns, and also I’m still very bad at writing violence and this is from three years ago now so, don’t expect too much I guess?, there’s no permanent death, they can’t die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:15:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MochaTears/pseuds/MochaTears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Four Horsepersons decide who will do the washing up after a meal.<br/>-<br/>[Originally written in 2017, but I thought it was sorta funny when I reread it, and it’s a shame not to put it anywhere.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roulette</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It sat on the table, in the centre, between the four.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>War twirled a lock of her hair through her fingers, twining it around her index finger and tugging gently. Her attention, though, remained on her companions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pollution had a distant look on his face, as though he wasn't really in the room. He was probably thinking about something that he enjoyed. Like air pollution, or litter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Famine had his hands clasped together on the cool tabletop, his eyes carefully scanning the other three occupants of the room. His gaze was hungry, like he hadn't eaten in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Death simply sat. Nothing else could be said for him except that. His face was expressionless, almost like it wasn't there. He knew how this would end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shall we begin?" Asked Famine, his tone slow, calculating. Pollution and Death finally refocused on the task at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back on the middle of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>War laughed, "By all means," she replied, "You can even take the first shot." Famine looked put off at this, but reached his hand forward, slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room seemed to fall quiet as breaths were held. Pollution's face deceptively carefree as he, too, awaited the result. War eyed the proceedings over the guise of inspecting her pointed, red nails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Death watched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I simply shouldn't." Famine hesitated, hand hovering over the table's centre, "ladies first, yes? My chivalry cannot be impeded by a situation such as this, it would ruin my reputation."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>War's laugh, at this, was possibly louder than at his first comment. She sat forward a little, a wicked gleam in her eyes, "Is that a bead of sweat I see? What reputation, anyhow? Yours, certainly, has been in shreds from the start!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Famine sent her a fierce glare, a bird about to swoop his prey as he rose slowly, "You attack my ego as if you don't have one of your own large enough to fill Earth's oceans, Red!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>War rose from her seat as well, expression turning to thunder, "An insult! You take that back, you farce of a man!" She scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of the two, it was usually expected of War to resort to violence first, given her nature. Sable, however, countered this assumption just then. 'Farce of a man' had been a stab to his pride that he didn't not take kindly towards. She would not call him some sort of buffoon and get away without repercussions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand that had fallen below the edge of the table lifted, blade clutched so tightly his pointed nails drew blood from his palm. The blackish red dripped down his wrist and spotted the tablecloth with its impurity. The serrated steak knife he clasped was pointed straight at Scarlett's chest. She dodged his jab in a quick leap to the side, before drawing her own knife. If Ivory allowed guns at the table, this would be so much quicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the cut he had slid across her shoulder as she moved from his direct path, and frowned, "Come at me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Famine made a strange noise in the back of his throat, like a cross between a growl and a squawk, and charged towards her with his knife at the ready. He looked like a buffoon, Scarlett thought idly. She ducked under his swipe and stabbed her knife into his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a choking noise that rather grated on War’s nerves, as she forced her knife up through his torso and finished the cut at his chest, just above his heart. Then she pushed down some more, just to hear the satisfying squeak that fell from her opponent's lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, everything was a little bit confusing, because she was somehow lying on the floor, her hair in a halo around her head. She could feel something wet slowly pooling against her skin. The side of her head felt numb, and she slipped into darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chalky frowned at the two dead beings, "Scarlett's leaking brain onto the carpet." He observed, before turning back to the table. He pulled a straw from the cup. It was short. He sighed, looking forlorn. "Stuck on washing up again... I really don't know why they can't just stay how they are, y'know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His glance was towards Death, who did know. He knew quite a lot of things. Like, for instance, all the straws in the cup were the same length.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>